


The Best Laid Plans of Nanites and Men

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Jake 2.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-19
Updated: 2008-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Jake Foley becomes the 'ultimate human upgrade,' forces at the NSA cause him to consider how he wants to live the rest of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans of Nanites and Men

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Semmi

 

 

The business card was worn, the corners bent and edges soft from years in his wallet beside a Blockbuster card that hadn't been used since the pre-Netflix days.

There was no corporate logo on it, no fancy job title or e-mail address. There wasn't even a name, just a phone number in simple black print against the plain white cardstock.

He had called the number once before, to save a life, to try and give someone a future he earned instead of one determined by birth. Now it was his turn.

Picking up the phone, he started to dial.

_Eighteen Hours Earlier_

Jake's first clue that something was wrong came as he walked past Kyle's desk. The senior agent was notoriously uptight about order and organization, so it wasn't really a surprise that the desk was clear, not a single pencil out of place. A second glance, however, revealed that it wasn't just tidy--it was pristine. Deserted. There were no files stacked neatly to one side; no rapidly cooling coffee in an NSA logo mug; no photograph of his parents at their 40th anniversary party. Even the silly model Goodyear Blimp that Jake had brought back as a joke from Akron was missing.

Jake abruptly switched directions, his mind racing faster than his feet could carry him to Lou's office. With unwavering certainty he knew that Kyle was gone--and wasn't coming back--but he couldn't for a moment fathom why.

He barged in without knocking, not caring whether she might be in a meeting that went well above his security clearance. It was a bit of luck that he found her alone, but he still expected a verbal reprimand, a stern reminder of protocol within the NSA. When she simply glanced up and said, "Have a seat, Agent Foley," he actually felt worse.

"Is Kyle dead?" he blurted out before he was even in the chair.

She looked startled, but managed a small smile. "I assure you, Agent Duarte is alive and well."

"Then where is he?"

"He was transferred last night. Effective immediately. You had already left for the evening."

"But...why? And he couldn't even call to say goodbye?"

"There wasn't time. He did, however, ask me to give you this."

Jake took the envelope she held out to him, but didn't open it. "I still don't understand why he was transferred."

"His talents were needed elsewhere," she replied evenly, and Jake took a moment to study her. She was clearly hiding something, choosing carefully what to say, and he wondered what was going on.

"His talents were needed here," he said.

Her eyes flashed with something he couldn't identify, and it finally occurred to him that she _wanted_ to tell him what was going on. Letting the nanites go to work, he quickly scanned the room for electronic surveillance. It didn't surprise him when he discovered multiple bugs, and it was only a matter of seconds before he disabled them. With a slight nod, he asked, "What's really going on, Lou?"

Her posture slumped, and she leaned back in her chair, worry lines etching her face. "Agent Duarte was transferred to get him out of the way."

"Out of the way of what?"

"Progress, supposedly."

"What kind of progress?"

"Advances in the nanotechnology project. It's been three years, and you're still the only person with nanites integrated into your system. Certain people want that to change. Kyle wasn't one of them. Neither am I."

"Why not? Is it something I did?" he asked, deep-seated insecurities rising rapidly to the surface.

"Nothing you did deliberately, no. But we both know that your abilities have come with their own set of quirks, consequences we didn't foresee, flaws we weren't necessarily prepared for. Finding the ultimate agent and introducing nanites into his system seems like an obvious choice on the surface. But it's not simple, and as time has gone on, Agent Duarte and I came to believe it shouldn't happen. At least, not yet."

"So, what, they transferred him to shut him up? I don't see the point. You're still here, after all."

"Not for long. They're disguising it as a promotion, and they're giving me a little time to get things in order, but by the end of next week, I'll be gone."

He was silent for a moment, stunned at the turn of events. "Then what happens to me? And Diane?"

"Dr. Hughes has become the preeminent authority on nanotechnology, thanks to her work with you. If she chooses to remain with the agency, she will be strongly encouraged to continue her research in that field, and will likely receive ample funding to do so."

"And me?" he asked again quietly.

Lou leaned forward, clasping her hands atop the desk in front of her. "The way I see it, there are a few possible scenarios. If the nanites--better, more advanced nanites--are successfully introduced into another agent or agents, you will effectively become obsolete. You're a good agent, Jake, and I have every confidence in your ability to do your job with or without the nanites. However, there are certain parties within this organization that are only concerned with what's newer, better, faster. To them, you will only ever be the prototype. The beta test."

"And if they can't successfully introduce them in someone else?"

She sighed. "Honestly, I believe that would be the worse outcome for you. If, for some reason, the nanites can't be integrated into other agents, a lot of very powerful people are going to want to know why. They will poke you and prod you and test you and hell, maybe even dissect you, in order to figure out what makes them work in you. They will never leave you alone. They will never let you be just another agent."

He laughed weakly. "I can't say either option is particularly appealing. I don't suppose there's a plan C?"

Her gaze was steady, intense, but she didn't speak. It took him a moment, but eventually the wheels began to turn in his head. There _was_ a plan C, but it was quite possibly worse than plans A and B combined. Swallowing hard, he said, "It seems like I have a lot of thinking to do. Thanks for explaining about Kyle."

She nodded once as he stood up and turned to the door. "Agent Foley...Jake. I know this is a difficult situation, but I have faith you'll make the right choice."

"For me or for the agency?" he asked, a little bitterly.

She didn't answer. He quickly left the office, carefully shutting the door behind him. Remembering the envelope in his hand, he leaned against the wall and ripped it open.

The note was short--no sentimental goodbyes, no reminiscences about their time as mentor and pupil. No, there were just two hastily scrawled sentences.

_I have one more favor left in the bank. You know who to call. -Kyle_

_Three Hours After That_

Jake paced impatiently outside Diane's lab. She had been holed up in there all morning, engrossed in some experiment and refusing to talk to him. He'd insisted it was important, but she'd just given a cursory glance to the JMD, assured him he was healthy, and told him that whatever it was could wait until lunch. He didn't think she even knew about Kyle yet. Office scuttlebutt was no match for a nanobot.

She finally emerged, hair piled in a haphazard bun, her normally impeccable lab coat looking a little worse for wear. "Ready for lunch?" she asked cheerfully.

"Have been for the past twenty minutes," he replied with a pointed glance at the clock on the wall.

Her cheeks reddened. "Sorry about that. I just know that I'm so close to a breakthrough with the next generation of nanites..."

He allowed her to ramble on about things he didn't even begin to understand until they reached the lobby, at which point her voice faltered. "I thought we were going to lunch," she reminded him.

"We are. I just thought it might be good to get out of the building for a little while. Eat somewhere other than the cafeteria."

"I suppose that would be nice, just so long as it doesn't take _too_ long. I have another batch of data to collect this afternoon..."

_Thirty-Seven Minutes Later, In a Place Other Than the NSA Cafeteria_

She stared at him across the table, fork paused above a plate of butternut squash ravioli. "You're going to leave, aren't you? You're going to fake your death, and then you're going to leave."

"I haven't decided yet," he assured her. "That's just one possibility."

"Jake...the last thing I ever wanted to come of all this was for you to feel like a glorified guinea pig. So even though I would give anything to have you stay, I want you to do what's best for you. Even if that means leaving," she said, her voice starting to shake near the end.

He wanted to comfort her, to wrap his arms around her and promise he'd never leave, to brush aside all the close calls and moments of heightened awareness and might haves/should haves/never weres that had built up between them over the years. He wanted her to ask him to stay; he wanted to ask her to go with him. But she'd never want him to be a lab right, and he'd never want her to live her life in hiding. Instead, he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I promise it won't be forever. Whatever it takes, someday, somehow, it won't be forever."

A tear slid down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it."

_Back In the Here and Now_

He answered on the third ring. "Wenk."

"Um, hi. This is Jake Foley. I don't know if you remember me..."

"Friend of Duarte's," the man cut him off. "What do you want?"

"I need to call in a favor."

"Too bad I don't owe you one. Find someone else."

"I'm calling in Kyle's favor."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "You know, last time that kid blew all my hard work in a matter of days. Do you have any idea how complicated this business is?"

"That's why I'm going to the best."

"I don't need flattery. 7 am tomorrow. Same place as last time. Don't be late."

_7 am, Tomorrow_

Everything looked the same as Jake remembered, including Earl Wenk. He couldn't help but wonder how the guy spent his spare time. There couldn't possibly be people coming to him every day for a new identity...could there?

"So what's your preference? Car fire or human soup?"

Gee, they both sounded so appealing... "Human soup," he finally replied. "I think the suicide scenario makes more sense, given...everything."

The other man shrugged. "Not really interested in the details. So here's the deal. You need to hole up somewhere for a few days. No contact with anyone, no cell phone, no credit cards. I'll get started on your papers, and get your apartment set up with the body."

"Sounds simple enough...sort of."

"This time next week, you'll be a new man. Just don't screw it up this time."

"I'll do my best."

_That Time Next Week_

Jake stared down at his new driver's license. "Please tell me you're kidding about the name."

Earl smirked. "Consider it a parting gift. Besides, no one will ever suspect it's fake. No one would _volunteer_ for that last name, right?"

"I guess not."

"I have an apartment all set up for you in New York, and I worked a little magic on your bank accounts. The rest is up to you."

"New York seems awfully...crowded."

"All the better to disappear. No one is going to pay attention to one more person when there are more than 8 million in the city."

"You're the expert."

"Damn straight. Now get out of here."

_Three Days Later, In Manhattan_

Jake flipped idly through the glossy pages of a magazine, glancing up now and then to examine the tastefully appointed waiting area. Plush leather couches, fresh flowers on the tables, and a receptionist who was an absolute knockout. Not a bad place for an interview.

"He's ready for you now," the receptionist told him.

Standing slowly, he brushed nonexistent lint off his new suit. Awkward black glasses--which didn't even have a prescription--slid down his nose a bit, and he pushed them back up, still not used to the feeling. Walking towards the inner office, he held out his hand to the man waiting there.

"You must be..."

"Henry. Henry Grubstick," he said, the name still uncomfortable on his tongue.

"Please, come in, Henry. Tell me, what is it that makes you want to work at _Mode_?"

-end- 

 


End file.
